


In shambles

by I_am_sorry



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Brothel AU, I Don't Even Know, I regret everything, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5518790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_sorry/pseuds/I_am_sorry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru is in love with the best (male) courtesan of all Japan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In shambles

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Keffy.  
> (2017, April.)

 

Oikawa Tooru is nine years old when he first hears the word, too young and innocent to even bother to try and find its meaning. Of course it’s not the only time he ever hears it, later at eleven in one of the parties his parents are famous for throwing, he hears it again in hushed whispers and amused laughs between some older (politically powerful) men. He lets it go because he is still not interested; only talking to the people his mother tells him he needs to talk to – sons and daughters of high raking functionaries and the like.

And it’s only normal in the end because he will be inheriting his family business once he is old enough.

He does as he is told: studies hard and tries so very, very much to excel in everything his parents tell him he needs to be perfect at. His father, a very stern man, seems pleased in his efforts so he thinks maybe… just maybe he is not a failure after all.

And so he grows up and by the age of fourteen that same word passes through his ears once again, this time the one who says it is a friend (or something close to a friend). Kuroo is a cynical but good natured boy, son of a high banker and so one of those peoples Tooru has to be close to. They get along fine.

“A pleasure house,” Kuroo says eagerly. “I’m going once I return from the trip overseas my father has arranged for me.”

Tooru blinks. “I thought you were going to be away for a week? Business right?”

“Yeah!”

“So, um, what it is it anyway?” By now he has an inkling of what a house of that kind is. It’s obvious really but he guesses he can ask to be sure.

Kuroo looks at him unbelievingly from his chair. “What? You don’t know?”

Tooru shrugs and sits across from him to shift through the papers on his desk. “I have an idea.”

“All the most beautiful people work there. You pay a fee and then they belong to you for a night or some hours… they let you do anything to them.”

“Sex?”

Kuroo is the one who shrugs this time. “Yeah.”

“And you are excited to go?” Tooru looks ponderingly at the other man. Kuroo is two years older than him and sex is something they understand as a concept, not through practice, so his friend must be thrilled at the idea.

“Yeah,” A malicious grin spreads in the other’s face. “You can come too if you want… I’ll even pay for the both of us!”

“Well,” Tooru looks up to the ceiling of his study. There are plenty of girls who are willing to do that kind of thing with him because being the heir to one of the most prestigious and dominant textile business in Japan and having good looks help. He doesn’t need to pay to get sex but Kuroo probably doesn’t either and he is just going out of pure insane curiosity.

“I could go,”

he looks down at the forms resting on his writing table. “Although I need you to sign this first.” He smiles (his most winning and business-like smile).

Kuroo just rolls his eyes. “You are such a workaholic.”

Tooru just smiles again because he is only fourteen, but his father has already delegated many obligations and business-contracts to him. He hasn’t failed one single negotiation yet and this one won’t be the exception. Kuroo is just a bit stubborn but he will do what Tooru wants in the end –everyone does.

“Fine,” Kuroo squints at him. “You know I can sign but my father has to agree to it as well. You can’t do shit without his seal.”

Tooru nods.

“Does this mean you are coming with me?” Kuroo is smirking at him.

“Now that you have accepted our contract I don’t see why not.”

“You are a manipulative son of a—”

Tooru shakes his head. “Business before pleasure,” he chirps sunnily and of course Kuroo understands the joke.

He laughs loudly and Tooru can´t help but snicker along.

\---

Oikawa Tooru meets Iwaizumi Hajime when he is seven years old. He is playing in a park, having just managed the biggest accomplishment of his short life – escaping the Oikawa manor has not been an easy feat but here Tooru is, finally outside. He has never been allowed to play in public places like this. He feels giddy with joy.

He has been jumping over bugs in unusual bravery for over an hour now (suddenly he doesn’t fear them anymore; it probably is the adrenaline of having finally escaped his house). He learns they make a crunching sound when he squashes them down, he learns they can't scare him when they are a sticky puddle under his shoe.

“Hey! Stop that!” A voice behind him says. It sounds angry.

Tooru turns at it. The voice belongs to a boy about his age. He is a little bit shorter than Tooru and has black hair, dark skin, and an impressive scowl.

“Hello,” he sings exuberantly as he jumps again –another bug crushed to nothing under his feet.

“No!” The boy shouts. “I told you to stop!”

Tooru tilts his head as he looks once again at the strange kid yelling at him. He is dressed poorly in a summer yukata (It doesn’t seem new or well washed), he has scraps on his knees and dirt on his hands. “I don’t want to,” he answers petulantly getting ready to jump again.

“I warned you,” the boy narrows his eyes before stomping hard over Tooru’s left foot.

He yelps and sputters and blinks to contain the tears away because his foot hurts – it hurts a lot. “You brute!” He screeches and throws himself at the other kid with an intent clear in his mind. He is going to punch and bite and and—

They tumble over and the one who lands on the grass in the end is Tooru. He looks up to see the other boy’s unimpressed stare.

He snarls. “Let me go.”

Still pinning him down with legs and arms, the other kid nods. “I will, but first you have to promise you won’t keep jumping over them.”

Tooru huffs at the suggestion. “I don’t want to! They are ugly and scary and I hate them!”

“But they have done nothing to you! That’s just not fair!”

Tooru balls his fists, but he can’t move. “Fine,” he snaps after minutes of useless struggle.

The boy climbs off him and offers a helping hand. Tooru wants to slap it away. His dress pants are ruined now and his white shirt is dirty with soil. His mother will yell more over this than over the fact that he ran away. It’s expensive clothing imported from outside (his parents are not conservative enough to stick to traditional fashion now that Japan is getting a modernization).

He accepts the hand in the end.

“You like them, huh?”

The boy looks at him at this. He has green eyes and for a moment he seems really, really sad but he covers instantly away with a gruff tone. “They don’t have the fault of being this small.”

Tooru thinks it’s a weird response but doesn’t linger on it any longer. It’s getting late and the panicked servants are bound to find him soon. Still, he doesn’t feel the need to rush home. He doesn’t know what draws him to the other boy, even though the boy was rude since the very moment they met (it could be the pretty green of his eyes, Tooru has always liked that color now that he considers it).  
“Oikawa Tooru.” He says as he extends his hand, all business-like just like he has seen his father do innumerable times.

The boy blinks at him in surprise, he seems to doubt for a moment but then he accepts Tooru’s hand and grumbles his own name. “Iwaizumi… Haji—… Just Iwaizumi.”

“What you don’t have a name?” Tooru utters incredulous.

The boy lowers his gaze. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone that.”

“Well.” Tooru chews at the inside of his right cheek. The boy, Iwaizumi, looks miserable again. “I mean it’s not that important.”

Iwaizumi looks up and Tooru just clears his throat. He has never had a friend of his own choosing. It’s always children his mother tells him he needs to befriend. Tooru thinks this boy, Iwaizumi with no name, can be his special exception if he tries. “Want to be my… um— you know?”

Iwaizumi frowns at his words, obviously not getting them.

“My friend?” He finishes lamely looking anywhere but at the boy. His cheeks are burning pink.

The boy barks a laugh and Tooru feels indignant. He looks at Iwaizumi again ready to take the offering of his friendship back, but the other boy talks first. “You are weird but I… um, I think you are not that bad in the end and I don’t have many friends. I-I mean, I wouldn’t mind.” Iwaizumi is the one turning pink now.

Tooru smiles and for the first time since he can remember he doesn’t feel forced to do it. He smiles because he is happy.

Iwaizumi smiles too, all teeth and shining green eyes and Tooru doesn’t have clue just yet as to why but his heart feels light just by looking at him.

\---

“Iwaaa-chan!” Tooru calls loudly strolling happily towards his friend. His arms are straining with the effort of carrying two boxes all the way from his home towards the park. “Iwaaaa-chan! Where are you?”

“Stop being loud dumbass.”

Tooru smiles (utter happiness painting his lips). “Aww so mean!”

Iwaizumi looks at him (but fails to hide his smile). “So what it is you are yelling for?” He asks.

“Oh yeah.” He shifts the boxes in his arms and moves closer to the bench where Iwaizumi is sitting. He places the boxes down and opens the first one, taking out a carefully wrapped package in white paper. “This is so you won’t be so bitter all the time,” he waves the package in front of the other (an obvious teasing in his voice).

His friend narrows his eyes but accepts the package anyway. “I see, you brought me sweets, huh?”

Tooru shrugs. “They are imported Iwa-chan, it wasn’t easy but the great Tooru-sama managed to get you this delicious treat you have always liked so much!” In fact, the last contract he had sealed with Kuroo had made this possible, and of course the tedious amount of hours doing paperwork with Kuroo’s father had helped as well (with the amount of money his father had given him for his success, he had been able to buy the expensive sweets).

Iwa-chan nods. “Thanks,” he says prudently as he places the sweets carefully at his side.

“Oh, but there is more,” Tooru actually bounces this time. He is excited beyond belief for Iwa-chan to look at the second box. “Look, look how pretty this is!” He opens it impatiently and pulls out a larger package –ripping the paper quickly, he unfolds blue dyed fabric. It’s a new design of yukata his company had been working on (extremely, extremely expensive), all sky-blue with white leaf patterns in the back and around the sleeves.

He had thought of Iwa-chan when he had first saw it, he had thought about how well it goes with the color of his eyes (so beautifully green) and as Iwaizumi had never stepped out of wearing traditional clothes, Tooru had decided he needed to see his friend dressed with it.

Iwaizumi looks actually puzzled at the robe on his hands.

“Y-you don’t like it?” Is what he finally manages to say, his face falling from his previous enthusiasm, maybe he had gotten the wrong size? Or it wasn’t pretty enough in Iwa-chan eyes?

“No, no—I mean… um it’s, um I don’t think,” He looks flustered now, scratching the back of his neck and avoids Tooru’s gaze. “It’s too expensive Tooru and I can’t—”

“Don’t be a dummy, Iwa-chan. It’s a gift.” Tooru knows (has always known, really) his friend is far from being wealthy like himself, but this has never been an issue in their relationship before. He doesn’t know where Iwa-chan lives or who his parents are or if he has any siblings but in the end it really doesn’t matter to him because… “It’s a gift because you are my friend.”

\---

He sits down and waits in one of the ample rooms with a table ready for tea-ceremony and plush cushions scattered around. Time doesn't seem to pass here (a heartbeat or one thousand years, it makes no difference) so he really doesn't have an inkling of how much he actually waits, until an attendant comes and smiles (slowly and sensually, liquid fire in red painted lips).

He smiles back; it's fake and flippant but it will do. Today he is not in the mood for games.

"What can I do for you?" She asks and walks closer to him. She looks willing to do anything he may ask (kimono already rumpled and slightly open; her breasts are starting to show through it).

He looks at her again. She is young and definitely pretty, light brown hair and long legs. Tooru guess that any other man wouldn't hesitate to have her right here.

"Sake," he finally answers lightly, "and I want company of course."

She flutters her eyelashes. "I can do both."

He smiles again, a humorless little smile; he’s tired and jaded and so very old for someone who has barely turned twenty-two. "Ah, ah, ah," he tuts. "You won't do."

"He is busy with a client already, Oikawa-san." She presses but the night is barely starting and Tooru already knows how this will play out. "I'll pay," his voice is steady and steel like, "I'll pay anything."

She looks surprised but nods once and steps out of the little room.

It doesn't take much time.

The paper door opens swiftly with a 'clink' and then there he appears with a bottle of sake in one hand and two traditional cups in the other. His yukata is gray this time, with fish patterns and dusted greens. It looks expensive – not as expensive as the ones Tooru has gifted him but close enough (he wonders if it was also a gift and if was made by Oikawa's textiles, the middle-high class style they have been working on). He wears it impeccably, closed carefully and perfectly plain (a high contrast with the lady that had come first). "So elegant Iwa-chan! As expected from the very best~"

"Cut the crap, Oikawa."

"Mmm, but is the truth, isn't it?"

Iwaizumi scowls. "Just get on with it already," he spits as he sets the sake and the cups on the table and sits down in one of the cushions.

"Where would the fun be if I did that?" He stares into angry green eyes. Tooru rests his chin on one delicate palm as he continues to prod, viciously with honeyed poison dripping in every word. "We have all the night after all, and I intend to move to your room once I've consumed the sake I ordered so there's no point in rushing it, Iwa-chan."

Oh yes, a long night indeed.

"I hate you," Iwaizumi snarls angrily (so very, very angrily).

"Come here, Iwa-chan," he says patting the open spot on his lap, "don't be shy."

"Fuck you."

Tooru narrows his eyes. "Don't be rude. What would all of your other clients say if they ever heard you talk like that." His tone is mocking now (downright cruel and it will only get worse once the night progresses, it’s a given), but he is hurting so much he doesn't care. "Come here," he repeats and expects for Iwaizumi to finally break. "I'll pay anything for you," Tooru whispers in Iwaizumi's left ear and lays a hand possessively over Iwaizumi's stomach, “anything.”

At least this he can have. "I wonder how would you like to do it today? Would you like to fuck me Iwa-chan? Or maybe the other way around?”

The man on his lap doesn’t even flinch. Ah but… Tooru knows once he has done everything he wishes with him tonight, he will be a writhing mess in the futon (spread apart and begging for it to stop; his voice rough from screaming and his body flushed red from exertion).

“What do you think?” He breathes softly in the brown skin of Iwaizumi’s neck and skillfully moves the hand previously on Iwa-chan’s stomach through the folds of fabric (a lover’s gentle caress).

There is no response.

“Well if you don’t voice your opinion…”

“Drink the sake or it will go cold.”

“Mm.” Tooru looks at the cups momentarily forgotten and innocent looking on the table. “Do you want to get drunk, perhaps? To not feel what I’m going to do to you?”

Iwaizumi remains silent once again and Tooru bites his own lip hard, savagely. He tastes blood.

It’s a good idea to get drunk, he supposes –so he won’t feel any more pain (the haze and the pleasure will mix effortlessly and he will forget). He will forget who is the one fucking him, he will forget why he is even here in the first place, and most importantly he will forget why it hurts so fucking bad (why his heart sometimes feels like has been crushed mercilessly into the pavement so many, many times, ripped to shreds). He wants to clap at Iwa-chan for his brilliance.

The alcohol feels bitter as it goes down on his throat. It scalds.

“Well,” he says after one large swallow of the hot alcoholic beverage, “time to show me once again why they call you the best, don’t you think Iwa-chan?”

\---

He wakes up alone (the futon cold and white and impersonal even if it's in Iwaizumi's room), and it's difficult because his head is spinning thanks to all the sake from last night. He wonders what hour it is (the room still seems dark) and if he should be getting ready for work.

He paid for the whole night -he always does- so if Iwaizumi is no longer around, it means it’s close to early morning.

He sighs as he rubs his eyes painfully hard (he promised himself this time was going to be different). He thought that he didn’t have the time or the patience or enough strength left in him to cry anymore.

“Shit.” He swallows the word as he fights the burning in his eyes.

He gets up and looks for his clothes (sniffing slightly). He dresses quickly, noticing the rumpled state of his attire and how Iwa-chan’s yukata is still slumped on the floor.

And it’s foolish of him, so (stupidly, utterly, impossibly foolish) but he can’t help it –can’t help his feelings- so he bends down to grab the piece of fabric and brings it close to his face. It smells like him. Something fresh and earthy (days and days of playing in the woods or in the park where they first met) and so much like Iwa-chan that Tooru has given up on fighting the tears.

His shoulders shake with the force of his sobs and he feels like drowning. It’s awful this, everything, last night. He regrets it (Iwa-chan hates him more with every visit, he knows and yet…) and he cries every morning after but it’s useless because he will come back.

He always does and he always pays (higher than anyone) to get close to Iwa-chan, even if only for a second.

“I love you,” he says finally into the fabric (softly, gently…all the things he can’t say to him in person). “I should have never—”

“Oikawa-san?”

He flinches a little at the call but turns around to see who is talking to him.

“Yes?”

The person (Sugawara, another courtesan Tooru vaguely recalls) looks concernedly at him. “Iwaizumi told me to come to wake you up. He said something about being late for work?”

Tooru nods. “I— uh, thanks.”

“Are you alright?”

He tries to blink the tears away and manages a small smile. “Yes, sorry—can you give him this?” Ha asks referring to the yukata, he has been clinging into.

“Yes, of course.”

“I will be going then.”

Oikawa thinks to himself, ‘I don’t want to come back’. Maybe this time he will be able to…

“Oikawa-san?” The light haired man calls again before he steps out of the room.

He stops and looks back, waiting patiently for the other to speak.

“He really worries about you, you know?”

“Have a good day Sugawara-san.”

\---

“Are you ready?” Kuroo looks at him with amusement shining in his eyes. Tooru rolls his eyes. It can’t be that good; going to a place that sells love sounds sad actually. He wonders what Iwa-chan would say if he knew Tooru was going to go to such a place.

“Let’s go in.” He shrugs looking at the big doors in front of him. Whatever happens, Kuroo will pay anyway.

His friend smirks and soon they are seated at a private table (a young girl smiles and tells them someone will be there soon to tend to their wishes, with tea or sake if they prefer).

“I hope you don’t get disappointed,” Tooru says as he looks around, “if I don’t take anyone with me to fuck.” It’s one of the expensive houses but he doubts anything will catch his breath away.

It’s time for Kuroo to shrug. “At least I’m not alone in here.”

“Sorry for keep you waiting,” a voice says as the paper door slides open. Kuroo smiles and Tooru’s heart stops.

“Iwa-chan?” He asks as he looks into surprised (wide) green eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post something for Christmas so happy holydays?


End file.
